Hate is like a swordfish, working through water invisibly and then you see it coming with blood along its blade, but transparency disarms it..

In this part of the story I am the one who dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you, because I love you, Love, in fire and in bl….

Poetry arrived in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don't know how or when..

Hands make the world each day..

The bare earth, plantless, waterless, is an immense puzzle. In the forests or beside rivers everything speaks to humans. The desert does not speak. I….

De pronto no puedo decirte lo que yo te debo decir, hombre,perdóname; sabrás que aunque no escuches mis palabras no me eché a llorar ni a dormir y qu….

Poetry is an act of peace..

I built up these lumber piles of love, and with fourteen boards each I built little houses, so that your eyes, which I adore and sing to, might live ….

Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly..

What will they say about my poetry who never touched my blood?.

If you no longer live, if you my beloved, my love, if you have died, all the leaves will fall in my breast, it will rain in my soul night and day, th….

I love you between shadow and soul. I love you as the plant that hasn't bloomed yet, and carries hidden within itself the light of flowers. I love yo….

We bear the sole, relentless tenderness..

To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life..

Who do I belong to? How come I mortgaged my being till I don't belong to myself? How come I sold my blood? And who now owns my indecisions, my hands,….

Oh each successive night that comes has something in it of an abandoned ember that is slowly burning out, and it falls swathed in ruins, surrounded b….

Where were you then? Who else was there? Saying what? Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly when I am sad and feel you are far away?.

Who hasn't sharpened the edge of his soul? When, just as our eyes are opened, we see hate, and just after learning to walk, we are tripped, and just ….

How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me, my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running. So many times we have seen the mo….

We the mortals touch the metals, the wind, the ocean shores, the stones, knowing they will go on, inert or burning, and I was discovering, naming all….

In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begins..